


And I'll cross oceans, like never before

by adri92



Category: Marvel
Genre: Other characters are surely to pop up but whatever~
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-02-06
Packaged: 2017-11-28 10:51:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/673577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adri92/pseuds/adri92
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kate paces the room for a while, unable to sit still and carry her worry. She sinks down next to him on the bed. Clutching his hand in hers, she runs the pads of her fingers along his palm, tracing the calluses that mimic her own. It’s been the same routine for the last six nights. She’ll sit beside him and recall old memories or tell him what crazy thing Lucky did that day. She sees the way the nurses look at her, like it’s futile, like she should just give up and go home. But she won’t. Tonight, she tells the story of when they first kissed.<br/>“Do you remember?” She asks. “You asked if you could kiss me. Hawkeye being a gentleman.” She laughs in spite of herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And I'll cross oceans, like never before

It’s Sunday. Kate sits on a beyond uncomfortable chair composed of cold, hard plastic. The temperature in the room isn’t much warmer. She is certain she’s read somewhere that hospitals are kept cold as to not house bacteria. That didn’t make it better.  
She’s kept the television off and the only sound is the steady beat of the heart monitor. It’s comforting in an odd way. The steady beat indicates that Clint’s still alive even if he hasn’t opened his eyes in six days as his hospital records state; though, she’s kept the tally in her own head. Broken ribs and a head injury weren’t foreign to Clint or the hero profession, but this was bad. He’d always been awake equipped with sarcastic remarks no matter the injury.  
Kate paces the room for a while, unable to sit still and carry her worry. She sinks down next to him on the bed. Clutching his hand in hers, she runs the pads of her fingers along his palm, tracing the calluses that mimic her own. It’s been the same routine for the last six nights. She’ll sit beside him and recall old memories or tell him what crazy thing Lucky did that day. She sees the way the nurses look at her, like it’s futile, like she should just give up and go home. But she won’t. Tonight, she tells the story of when they first kissed.  
“Do you remember?” She asks. “You asked if you could kiss me. Hawkeye being a gentleman.” She laughs in spite of herself.

* * *

 

Night comes. Kate’s not so sure how she’ll get through the next day without his laugh. She’d take an argument with him over this silence. She lies next to the comatose Clint. She’s not supposed to. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s done something she’s not supposed to. She’s not supposed to kiss him. She’s not supposed to love him. But that all falls to the wayside. He is hers—even if they’d yet to define what they were to one another—and she couldn’t sleep without the warmth of his body pressed against her.

 

* * *

 

This morning’s different. Kate’s only half asleep when she feels him stir. His breathing’s different. She sits up. She faces him. For a moment, she starts to believe she’s dreaming. She isn’t. Kate scrambles out of the bed and quickly pushes the button on Clint’s bed that will call a nurse or a doctor to his room. She doesn’t want to startle him but she approaches the bed as his eyes slowly start to flutter open. How many times has she seen him wake? The familiarity brings a smile to her face and she doesn’t even bother to wipe the sleep from her eyes.  
“You had us scared, you know—“ Us. It’s easier to use the collective us; to include his friends. Less vulnerable. Less intimate. Even if her feelings have become more pronounced with his pseudo-absence.  
Clint’s brows furrow and he struggles to sit up. Kate’s ready to reassure him that someone will help him; she’s ready to tease him that she would if he weren’t so heavy. But, her smile vanishes when he speaks.  
“Do I know you?” He asks.  
The opportunity to respond is lost when the nurse and a team of doctors walk in. She’s ushered out and she can’t distinguish their words. It’s muffled. Like she’s drowning. Her voice is lost; she’s unable to scream out He doesn’t remember me. She chokes back the words and swallows them with her tears.


End file.
